Murphy’s smirk said it all. He’d be more than happy to take Tyler down if his teammate didn’t leave his heart and soul out on the field. Tyler wasn’t sure he had a heart or soul left to leave.
Lavender rose and regarded him with sleepy eyes. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and gazed at her for a moment. A fleeting instant of contentment crept past his defenses.
Glancing up, he caught his expression in the mirror on the dresser near the foot of the bed and did a double take.
Tenderness? What the fu—heck? Tenderness? He forced his face into his standard arrogant mask.
“Had you ever been to Twin Cedars before Artie died?” Her question from out of the blue caught him off guard and unbalanced.
Tyler battened down the hatches, not willing to give away anything. A muscle ticked in his jaw. His voice sounded tight to his own ears. “My dad spent his summers here for years growing up. After my grandfather and my dad had their final falling out, Dad quit visiting the place. Then Grandpa died and Uncle Artie inherited.”
“Did you ever visit the islands as a kid?” Annoyingly, she pried, obviously in an attempt to get beneath his surface armor. But why?
“Plenty. But never here. Never. All this happened long before I was born.” He thawed slightly. “And you? How did you end up here?”
“I grew up on the mainland not far from the ferry landing. My dad—Brian—coached high school football in Mt. Vernon. This property was in his family for a couple generations, but Mom got it in the divorce.”
Tyler rubbed his fingers across his rough stubble. “I went to WSU because your dad was there. I bet you never knew that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Small world, huh?”
She nodded and visibly swallowed.
Tyler rolled over onto his side and propped his head up with his hand. He studied her in the rare morning sunlight peeking through the curtains. “You know, my dad never reconciled with his father. I guess he thought his dad would always be there, and he’d get to it someday. After Grandpa died, he said not seeing him one last time was the biggest regret of his life. I know I’d give anything for the chance to see my dad again, to have him in my life.”
She tensed in his arms, but he plowed onward. “El, you have a dad who’s still alive. You’re throwing away the chance to have a future with him in it.”
“He threw away that chance, not me. He abandoned me. We’ve been down this road before. Please quit bringing him up.” She grabbed the blanket and swung her legs off the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress with her back to him.
“I’m sorry he hurt you.” He stroked her spine with gentle, sure strokes. He’d shoved his problems to the back burner and focused on her pain.
“I’m okay.” She hugged herself, tightly, rocking back and forth and softening his heart.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Huddling forward, she gripped the blanket tighter around her, as if it would insulate her from a lifetime of pain. His big hand snaked around her waist and pulled her back down onto the bed. She wriggled around until she faced him, her body draped across his chest.
“Does this mean you like me?” He teased her, hoping like hell she’d maintain her distance as he attempted to do.
“Not at all. I still can’t stand you. You’re an arrogant, self-serving jock.”
“You forgot entitled. That’s my favorite insult. I like being entitled.” He buried his face in her hair. She smelled damn good.
“Sorry. My bad. Entitled. Absolutely. I can’t stand entitled jocks.”
“Good. Dislike makes the sex hotter. If we got along, it’d be boring as hell.”
“No chance of that.”
Yet there was a chance, a chance this thing between them might be slipping out of his control. He took her mouth in his, slipped his tongue inside when she parted her lips. Tyler lost himself in her soft, naked body rubbing against his harder, rougher one—hard being the operative word. His cock stood poised at the starting gate, raring to go. Rolling onto his back, he dragged her with him, still kissing her. Hey, it was a talent.
“Ride me, baby.”
Lavender pulled away and sat up, straddling his torso. She rewarded him with a sexy, sultry smile. She grabbed a condom packet from her nightstand and unrolled it on him in record time. Raising her hips, she lowered herself onto his waiting cock.
“Oh, fu—fudge. Heaven. Frigging heaven.” He groaned and bit down on his lower lip. Her wet pussy sheathed his cock inch by incredible inch. Her muscles clenched around his dick. Waves of pleasure circuited from his body through his malfunctioning brain and back to his erection. Nothing about his cock was malfunctioning, which was a damn good thing. She lifted her hips until only the head of his cock rested inside her moist entrance. His balls tightened almost painfully. She held herself above him, teasing the tip of his cock with her hot pussy.
Enough of this shit.
Tyler grasped her waist and slammed her hips downward, shoving his dick deep inside her.
She screamed out and arched her back, pressing her hips into his. “Tyler. Ty, oh, yeah, that feels incredible.”
“Then ride me, baby, like you’re riding for your life, and the devil is on your heels.” He loosened his grip on her hips, allowing her to control the pace.
“The devil isn’t on my heels. He’s underneath me.” Her mass of red curls tickled his chest as she leaned down and claimed his mouth. Damn, but he loved an aggressive woman.
“You got that right, honey.”
She lifted up her ass and slammed back down, upping the pace with each rise and fall of her hips. The air whooshed out of his lungs, rendering him incapable of speech. The smell of sweat, sex, and Lavender filled his nostrils. They kissed like two uncivilized creatures, mindful only of the moment and driven by the most basic of desires. Their bodies slapped together in rhythm, followed by a sucking sound on the upstroke as her pussy gripped his. Faster and faster. Harder and harder. Deeper and deeper.
Tyler opened his eyes and met her gaze. Usually he didn’t meet a woman’s eyes during sex. He avoided the intimacy. With Lavender, he couldn’t look away, couldn’t save himself from falling until they melded into one being with one purpose: to experience ultimate pleasure.
And their screwing did just that. His control shattered. He came, shouting her name to the treetops. A split second later, he heard his own name over and over.
They collapsed in a pile of spent arms and legs, not moving for several minutes.
Shaking off the after-sex high, Tyler stood and started pulling on his clothes. “I need to get back before I’m missed.”
“Yeah, we don’t want anyone to think we have something between us.” Her attempted smile didn’t reach her eyes. Guilt stabbed at him, putting a dent in his sexual satisfaction.
“Oh, honey, we do have something between us. Namely my cock and your pussy.” His attempt to keep it light faded when she stared back at him, her eyes devoid of the warmth he’d witnessed a few minutes ago. Tyler’s grin faded. He averted his eyes for a moment and gnawed on his lower lip. His fingers hesitated on his zipper. He wanted to say more, put the smile back on her face. “El, I—”
“What?” Her hollow voice stabbed at his heart, made him feel like a true asshole.
He shook his head, changing his mind. Nothing he could say would ease his guilt, a guilt he didn’t understand. Tyler hesitated in the doorway. A slit of sun peeked through the curtains and shed light on one side of her face and left the other side in total darkness. Somehow that seemed appropriate because part of her was completely concealed to him. She only let him see what she wanted him to see. Just like he did with her.
They were one hell of a pair.
Chapter 18—Naked Screen
Tyler grimaced and suppressed his inclination to barf.
The brotherhood and several other bar patrons surrounded Tyler’s cousin as if he were the second coming. It was disgusting. Derek, who normally didn’t like being in th
e limelight, basked in their attention like Cougar lying in the one spot of sun streaming in the living room window. Sure, Derek oozed kindness and concern in nauseatingly high doses. Even worse, his sincerity attracted people in droves. He loved everybody, and everybody loved him. If his cousin had an enemy, Tyler hadn’t met him. He suspected Derek hadn’t, either.
Even worse, his butthead cousin was telling stories about Tyler’s past escapades, stories that painted Tyler in a way-too-flattering light and endangered his asshole reputation.
Insulated by the other defensive players, Murphy slouched in his chair and watched the entire scene with an eagle eye. No doubt the butthead filed every detail away for future ammunition to nail Tyler’s ass. Derek told him to cut Murphy some slack. The guy just wanted a Super Bowl ring before he retired.
Whatever.
Tyler frowned and flipped his chair around to concentrate on something more intriguing than his cousin’s bullshit, his teammates’ amusement, and the local residents’ hero worship of Dickwad Ramsey.
Propping his long legs on the chair next to him, Tyler watched Lavender’s fine ass while she bussed a couple tables. Damn, he loved that ass of hers, loved the feel of it as he held on to her while banging her brains out. His mind drifted to even better visions.
“So, Harris, you ever play any sports other than football?”
Tyler’s feet landed on the floor with a bang. He snapped his head in Murphy’s direction, pissed the has-been linebacker interrupted his fantasy concerning Lavender, purple silk sheets, several plump strawberries, and a large can of whipped cream. “Huh?”
“He sure did. All-State in three sports. Coulda played in the majors if he’d wanted,” Derek inserted cheerfully.
“Why didn’t you?” Murphy probed, obviously looking for signs of weakness.
Tyler curled his lip into his baddest sneer. Murphy didn’t even lift one eyebrow. “Football was my passion.”
“Was being the operative word.” The bastard sneered right back.
Tyler cringed. He’d effed up. “I meant is my passion.”
“Too late now, fuckhead. Every one of us heard you with our own ears. Didn’t we, guys?”
The defensive players nodded, diving right into Murphy’s web of dissension. The offensive side looked everywhere but at Tyler. He’d dropped a notch in their eyes, thanks to their newest teammate.
Derek separated himself from the brothers. With a heavy sigh, he interceded. “Gentlemen, nothing good is going to come from picking sides. We’re all in this together.”
“Some of us are.” Murphy snorted, and Tyler itched to wipe that smug smile off his ugly mug.
Tyler rose to his full height. Planting his hands on the table, he leaned down and got in Murphy’s face. “Why don’t you fucking go to hell? This team did fine without you. We don’t need an asshole like you parading like he’s the fucking team savior. You wanna talk about try, fuckhead, we’ll talk about try. Tell me—just how many playoff games have you won in your way-too-long career? How many MVP awards? Why don’t you hang it up and admit defeat, Murphy? Rather than ripping my team in half with your bullshit.” Tyler took a moment to glare at the defensive players, driving home the point that they were part of his team, not Murphy’s. The cowards looked everywhere but at Tyler.
For emphasis, Tyler slammed his fist into the table, causing the brothers to jump. He spun around and crossed the room before he turned the arrogant asshole into whale bait and threw his mutilated body in the Strait of Juan De Fuca. Some unfortunate sucker with crappy timing sat on Tyler’s favorite barstool. One murderous glance sent the jerk diving for cover. Tyler swung a leg over the seat and stared at nothing.
“You could be nicer to him, you know. He’s just trying to figure out where he fits in with the team.” Lavender stood near his barstool, an empty tray in one hand and a pitcher of beer in the other.
Tyler rubbed his sore knuckles and glowered at her. “I don’t do nice when it comes to assholes.” A predatory smile lit up his face. “But I could be convinced to be nice to you for a price.”
“Sorry, jock boy. I wouldn’t be interested if you were free.”
“You didn’t say that last night or this morning.” He inhaled a whiff of her perfume. His brain fell into a fog. Some of his anger fell away. “I was really nice to you.”
“We don’t even like each other. Remember?” The gleam in her brown eyes promised untold pleasures. She ran a finger across his lips. He cleared his suddenly parched throat.
Oh, yeah, he remembered. In fact, last night had been filled with tons of dislike. “How about we practice being enemies some more tonight?”
“Sorry. Not unless you agree to be nicer to him.”
Damn, she was a frigging tough negotiator. “What do I get out of it?”
“Besides team unity?”
He rolled his eyes. “Fat chance that’ll happen as long as both of us are breathing.”
“What do you want?” Lavender put a finger under his chin and pulled his face close, real close. He could smell mint gum on her breath.
“I’m a greedy bastard. I want a lot.” He did want a lot. He wanted something unexplainable, something unfathomable to his asshole self-programming. Yet he wanted it. He didn’t know what the hell it was, but he’d know it when he got there. He also knew Lavender might be his best ticket to that destination.
The truth slammed him to the ground harder than a tackle by a three-hundred-pound lineman.
She could help him find the missing piece of his empty life. Somehow she’d been dropped on him when he needed what she had to give. He hated to go all Zan on himself, but he believed in intuition and instincts. They’d served him well over his football career. Without them, he’d be just another quarterback instead of a future Hall of Famer with two Super Bowl rings and a few more left in him. At least he hoped there was gas left in that tank.
He met her brown eyes and recognized a kindred spirit, someone who hid pain behind a brash exterior. He looked away, uncomfortable with what he was feeling.
Last night she’d seen him at his most vulnerable. She’d sidestepped past his asshole front and right into his soul. That didn’t sit well with him.
Sex. This thing between them had to remain about sex and only sex. He craved her body. Her sassy attitude challenged him. Her imaginative approach to sex made him harder than a bronzed penis. But it stopped there.
It had to stop there.
* * * * *
Lavender watched Tyler as he bent over his iPhone and texted some anonymous person. Anonymous to her, obviously not to him. A smidgen of jealousy settled in her stomach.
Tyler looked up and caught her staring. She flinched, fearing he’d read her face. Try as she might, she couldn’t save herself and look away. Only when he held his phone up for her to see the screen did she avert her gaze to the phone. He’d been texting his mom.
He knew. He knew she’d been jealous. Just like he’d been yesterday almost to the point of losing control. In order to be jealous, a person needed to care at least a little.
She glanced back at him. He locked gazes with her. His blue eyes burned intensely, and she fell back a step. Something between them shifted and leaned off-kilter, teetering and unbalanced. They crossed an invisible emotional boundary, stuck a toe in water beyond their comfort zones.
Lavender shook off her crazy thoughts. She shoved them out of her mind and away from the temptation to want something more out of this relationship, the temptation to consider there’d ever be something more.
She didn’t believe in love. She’d seen its effects with her broken-hearted mother. She’d suffered its effects each time she’d allowed herself to fall for the wrong guy. No thank you. She didn’t need that shit. Leave love to the dreamers and fools. She was no fool.
Tyler was a jock. While she’d admit not all jocks were bad, Tyler was one of the bad ones. He wore his cockiness and attitude for all to see. Besides, Tyler shared some of the same traits as her father, good
and bad. They loved sports, were married to the game, and any woman in their lives would always take a back seat to their sport of choice, be it basketball, football, baseball, or even Ping-Pong. A jock lived for the game. Even after he quit playing, he coached or announced. Whatever he chose to do, the sport dragged him away from home, leaving behind the ones he professed to love—not the way to a successful marriage, and certainly not a great way to raise kids with an absentee father.
She knew. She’d lived that story. She’d never willingly live it again. She wouldn’t wait at home for her husband to return from practice and a night of analyzing game film, just to see him for a few minutes each day. Then he’d be up at six a.m. and back to the practice facility to start the process all over again.
Sex she needed, and sex Tyler Harris provided. The man redefined insatiable. She didn’t need to love anything else about him. Keep it simple and physical, that was the plan. She’d deviated from that path lately. Time to walk the straight and narrow, no detours, and not cross any emotional borders.
Lavender headed behind the bar, Tyler hot on her heels. He backed her up against the counter. His hips pressed against hers.
“You’re making me crazy. I can’t get enough of you. All day long, I think about having sex with you. I wake in the middle of the night and think about it some more.”
“You’ve been getting your fill.” Lavender slid out from the counter and grabbed a bar rag to wipe the tables.
“I can never get my fill.” His blue eyes turned midnight black. A lock of dark hair fell over one side of his forehead. She wanted to touch it, brush it back. He shoved his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his face. He cornered her again, cutting off her escape route.
“Your team’s watching.”
“Yeah, so? I’ll get rid of them.” Ty strode across the room, tossed the house keys at his cousin. They exchanged a few words. A few seconds later, the guys filed out the door, but not before Derek winked at her over his shoulder.
Snap Decision Page 17
